


A Scandal in Watsonia

by wellingtonboots



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comedy, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-06
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-03 04:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellingtonboots/pseuds/wellingtonboots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU  Unbeknownst to her brother, Harry Watson <i> is</i> Irene Adler, so when John walks in her confronting Sherlock Holmes stark naked, things turn out very different indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wherein John is Besieged

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at the BBC Sherlock Kink Meme. Thanks to ambikai for the original idea!
> 
> You can read further chapters at my homepage: www.wellingtongoose.livejournal.com

**Title: A Scandal in Watsonia  
  
Chapter: 1. Wherein John is Besieged   
  
Summary: AU  Unbeknownst to her brother  **Harry Watson is The Woman** , so when John finally walks in her confronting Sherlock Holmes, things turn out very different indeed.   
  
Rating: PG-13   
  
AN: Written for [this prompt](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/17487.html?thread=102718799#t102718799) at the Sherlock Kink Meme. Hope you enjoy it, please note it is not suitable for children under 13. **   
  


 

 

Some siblings grow up to be best friends, others arch-enemies but Harry and John raced through their separate lives like commuters crammed into the tube; uncomfortably aware of the each other’s existence and both waiting impatiently for the chance to leave _._

In hindsight, Harry had never been an ordinary older sister; she never bought home unsuitably pierced boyfriends with spiky hair, she never stagger back in the early morning drenched in alcohol and she never abused her younger brother. Harry, quite unlike her peers, appeared to be completely disinterested in any of the stereotypical adolescent behaviours that plague everyone else’s lives. Instead, to their parents’ approval, Harry spent her teenage years in her bedroom...studying. Perhaps if John had not been so absorbed in rugby, cadet force and other suitably manly pursuits, he would have noticed Harry’s _unconventional_ nature must sooner.

Instead it took twenty eight years of co-existence and a ball-gag to finally bring Harry to John’s attention.

It was mid-spring and John was about to leave for the army barracks in Northumberland with the rest of his new Fusilier squad but their parents had insisted that he make a detour to London just to see Harry.  Their parents, polite affable middle-class professionals, thought that constant inference in their children’s lives was the only respectable occupation for the retired. So John dutifully sped down the M25 and arrived in Belgravia just in time to miss his sister. Even if he had been planning this particularly manoeuvre, he could not have executed it better.

A red haired beauty named Kate explained that his sister was out with a client, by which John presumed she meant  _business_ client. He never bothered to discover exactly what Harry did for a living but from the money she liked to splash around it was certainly a lucrative career.  He helped himself to her kitchen and then her (very nice) bedroom.

John had never been a particular perceptive man, so it took him some time to realise that his sister’s bedroom looked rather  _unusual_. The bed, a huge Victorian monstrosity, dominated her airy, well lit room. A matching set of bedside tables stood on either side but instead of the customary alarm clock and personal effects, they sported two bronze sculptures. For a moment John thought the figures were wrestling but then he realised to his dismay that the sculptures depicted copulation and not the morally acceptable kind.

Blushing furiously he tore his eyes away from his sister’s artistic pornography only to spot a strange leather contraption lying on top of a chest of draws. It looked almost like a harness, but on closer inspection he realised there was a large ball of hard sponge in the middle. Insatiable curiosity overwhelmed his better judgement and John picked up the contraption by the leather straps to get a better look. He dropped it again immediately when he realised just want it could be used for.

A sudden horror filled sense of realisation dawned on John as he slowly pulled open a beautifully crafted drawer. The traumatised part of his psyche wanted to stuff the disturbing contraption back into the drawer and wall off this memory forever but the wicked little voice in the back of his head urged him to look inside the drawer to see if Harry had any more interesting toys.

She  _did_  have more toys, drawers and drawers of them. Leather whips, riding crops, fluffy handcuffs and face masks with zippers where the mouth should be. He didn’t realise he was shaking until he reached the last drawer, which contained an imaginative range of rounded wooden rods, some with built in small electric motors. It was only after picking one up and watching it vibrate that John was forced to realise just what their function would be. 

After three long minutes for appalled silence, John’s legs finally gave way under the emotion strain and he crumpled gracelessly to the soft carpeted floor, dragging the entire drawer of vibrators out of its wood frame. The drawer tilted haphazardly causing dildos of all shapes and sizes to roll across the innocuous cream carpet. The movement set several of the automatic motors off and John suddenly found himself curled on the floor besieged by a shaking, humming mass of his sister’s sex toys.

Feeling the tenuous grip on his sanity slipping away, John summoned all of his courage and started hurling his electronic attackers back into the drawer. A less conservatively minded man might have found the entire scene hilarious but John had been bought up by firm God-fearing parents and his mind was melting in mortification.   By the time he had finally managed to put the drawer away with trembling hands, John felt like an emotional shipwreck. A thousand thoughts buzzed through his traumatised mind.

_Their parents would be shocked and devastated. They would disown Harry, and possibly go to an early grave from grief and shame. His own sister – a social pariah! But Harry had always been so straight-laced, the good daughter. Where, how, why had it all gone wrong?_

In a split second of mental clarity, John made up his mind to take this secret to the grave. He would never mention this to another living soul. He would with stoicism and fortitude keep up appearances for his parents’ sake and if Harry ever decided to reveal her particular fetishes to the world, John would personally _terminate_  her.    
  
  
[Next Chapter](http://wellingtongoose.livejournal.com/2498.html)  
  
  
 **AN: I have always imagined John's parents to be straight-laced middle-class professionals who go to church on Sunday and attend neighbourhood watch meetings in the village hall. It makes Harry becoming a dominatrix all the more alarming for poor John, who is evidently almost as straight-laced as his parents.  
  
  
**


	2. Chapter 2: Wherein John Develops a Pseudo Seizure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is very AU and reimagines Scandal in Belgravia if Harry Watson was actually Irene Adler. Most infamous professions attract notoriety so I thought it was quite feasible that Irene Adler would be an alias.

 

 

 **Title: A Scandal in Watsonia  
  
Chapter: 2. Wherein John develops a Pseudo Seizure  
  
Summary: AU  Unbeknownst to her brother  **Harry Watson is The Woman**** , so when John finally walks in her confronting Sherlock Holmes, things turn out very different indeed.   
  
Rating: PG-13   
  
AN: Written for [this prompt](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/17487.html?thread=102718799#t102718799) at the Sherlock Kink Meme. Hope you enjoy it, written as light humour please do not take too seriously.   
  
  
  


 

* * *

  
Seven years and three tours of Afghanistan later, Harry’s dirty little secret was the last thing on John’s mind. Combat provided its own form of psychological damage that helpfully made previous traumatic events feel like warm childhood memories in comparison. It also helped that Harry had decided to keep a low profile in their family life ever since their  _private_  (and rather painful) disagreement one spring afternoon.

Occasionally, under the baking Afghan sun, John would read of her exploits from his parents’ letters. She had apparently set up her own private consultancy company and business was flourishing. His parents bought into this story wholesale; their letters always contained subtle but unflattering comparisons between his chosen career and her high-flying success. In the cold, dark Afghan nights, John would occasionally lie awake trying to shake the crushing feeling of jealousy and disappointment from his chest.

When John finally returned to England, London was the last city he wanted to visit, let alone live in. His parents had been pouring praise on Harry’s “kind and generous” offer to put him up until he found his civilian feet. Harry, they insisted, had a luxurious house in Belgravia and John should be utterly grateful for been given such a wonderful opportunity. Naturally, John declined the offer, instead he found himself a flat share with a self-proclaimed sociopathic genius who thought crime scenes were better than sex.

He had never been happier.

Well, he had never been happier until one hazy September afternoon when a helicopter landed in a marshy field and the police constable insisted it was for him.

 

* * *

 

“What do you know about this woman?” asked Mycroft Holmes, passing over several photographs with perfectly manicured hands. They were laminated and glossy so from his position, John couldn’t make out anything beyond a general dark background but he was nevertheless intrigued. Sherlock on the other hand looked sullen and bored.

John’s interest in the photographs evaporated as soon as it became clear The Woman was performing unspeakable acts on the future Queen of England. He had always been a staunch monarchist, fighting for Queen and country, and the whole scenario left him feeling both furious and nauseated. Thus it was quite a relief when Sherlock decided to take the case because John might have taken The Woman on his own if Sherlock hadn’t.

By the time John and Sherlock managed to bluff their way inside Irene Adler’s house in Belgravia, John’s initial excitement had faded into an ambient buzz. The end of this case was already a foregone conclusion: Sherlock had a brilliant plan and this Irene Addler woman would be no match for their coordinated attack.  

Letting his mind wander, John considered dropping in to visit Harry’s new house once the case was solved. Their relationship had improved substantially since his return from the frontlines due to a concerted effort on Harry’s part to take care of her baby brother. She was amused but supportive of his partnership with Sherlock and, in recent weeks, constantly nagging him for a chance to meet the detective.

 _There wasn’t a better time to introduce Sherlock than after a successful case_ , thought John, _Sherlock would be flushed with pride, wanting to discuss the case rather than Harry’s imaginary drinking habit_.

It was rather amusing that the great Sherlock Holmes got that particular deduction completely wrong, it was in fact Clara who had the drinking problem and Clara, also being Harry’s assistant, was tasked with charging her boss’ phone of an evening.

 He was still thinking about his sister when Kate, a red-haired beauty who looked vaguely familiar, led him into the kitchen to gather first aid supplies.

 _Harry’s new house must be of a similar style to this particularly stylish mansion, all neutral tones and mahogany panelling_.

Silently, John prepare a bowl of cold water with mechanical efficiency, his mind still dwelling on the impending visit to Harry’s.

 _Perhaps they would have tea in the garden and if John was lucky, his sister would bring out those fluffy white marshmallow tea cakes she knew he loved_.

With that thought John made up his mind to visit his sister and he vowed that even Sherlock’s infamous whining would not dissuade him from orchestrating their first meeting.

However unbeknownst to John, fate (and Mycroft Holmes) had already done the  _orchestrating_ for him.

 

* * *

 

After a carefully timed three minutes, John grabbed the bowl of water with a napkin and headed out to face The Woman with his mind honed for combat.

When he actually came to face The Woman, John’s mind went completely blank. Standing, stark naked in the middle of the tastefully decorated lounge with her breast inches from Sherlock’s face, was Harry Watson with a vicar’s collar held firmly between her teeth.

John didn’t feel his jaw drop; instead he felt a thousand neuronal synapses in his visual cortex simultaneously explode sending his mind into a pseudo seizure.

 _“Oh dear lord, Harry’s naked!”_  was his first coherent reaction, which was immediately followed by  _“is it a sin to stare at your sister’s boobs?”_

Disturbingly, the medically qualified part of his brain said:  _“that mole in her suprapubic region looks a bit suspicious, better get a dermascope for a closer look.”_

The sensible and well adjusted part of his psyche assured him  _“it’s not like you haven’t seen it all before, remember mum’s photos?”_ , whilst the wicked voice inside his head insisted:  _“you should totally add this to her photo album!”_  However the loving younger brother part of his personality cut through the cacophony: _“Sherlock Holmes is look at my sister’s privates!”_

His first reaction was to fling the bowl of cold water into Sherlock’s groin and then punch the man senseless for daring to violate Harry but then he realised just in time that it was Harry who was thrusting her naked form into Sherlock’s face. His poor flatmate looked utterly stunned and completely defenceless in the face of Harry’s brazen disregard for basic decency.

John’s second reaction was to scream at his sister to put “ _your trousers on”_  but the snide voice inside his head cackled away with glee and produced a thought that he definitely did not want to contemplate: “ _maybe this will be Sherlock Holme’s sexual awakening!”_. John visibly cringed as the mental picture of his best friend and his sister copulating disseminated into his mind’s eye like a noxious gas, and to think only minutes ago he was contemplating introducing Sherlock to Harry. It was surprising how quickly one man’s life could descend into madness and John was currently skating uncomfortably close to the edge of insanity.

Drawing on his combat stress training, he suppressed the completely understandable urge to shoot his sister and the man staring at her breasts with a semi-automatic pistol. He settled instead for a ruthlessly neutral response,

“I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”

Both Harry and Sherlock snapped their attention towards him. Even from their closely guarded expressions John could see they were so engrossed in the conversation that neither participant had noticed his presence.  That particular piece of information would significantly decrease the odds of their ultimate survival. John might not be a genius detective but a year’s worth of solving crimes with Sherlock had taught him how to literally get away with murder.

“Do come in and take a seat,” said his sister, who had the nerve to sound completely unabashed, “if you want tea I can call a maid.”

She sauntered casually away from Sherlock, making no move to preserve any decorum, and seated herself gracefully on the opposite armchair with the self-satisfied air of a contented cat.

“I had tea at the palace,” replied Sherlock, before John could even tear his burning eyes away from his sister’s stark naked body.

“Oh yes, I know,” said Harry, pursing her lips and putting on a completely inappropriate seductive pout. Neither of them bothered to look at John during this intense exchange, which needless to say, substantially increased his blood pressure _._

_If in twenty years time, he was still sane enough to contemplate the past, John would be able to pinpoint this exact moment as the precipitating factor of all his psychotic crimes._

“Clearly,” concluded Sherlock and to John’s utter dismay, the detective turned his intense scrutinising gaze onto his sister’s body. The rational half of John’s mind understood that Sherlock was merely trying to deduce “Irene” but his reptilian limbic system was gearing his body up for a fight to death in his sister’s honour. Meanwhile, seemingly oblivious to John’s mental state, Harry leaned towards Sherlock in appreciation of his gaze. A cryptic half-smile danced across her blood red lips; the same half-smile she gave him the last time John asked her  _politely_  to “keep a low profile on the scandal front”.

“I had tea at the palace too in case anyone’s interested!” interrupted John, wishing he could actively dispel the sexual tension in the air with an army issue 9mm. He managed to grab Sherlock’s attention at least, if only so that the detective could test his powers of deduction on John before turning back to bore his eyes into John’s sister.

Harry, unwilling to lose her captive audience, decided to turn on her deadly charm; the same deadly charm that had nearly got John grounded for life on more than one occasion.

“You know what the problem with a disguise is, Mr Holmes? No matter how hard you try it always becomes a self-portrait,” said Harry. Her seductive voice, the one she had perfected on everyone from their parents to the parish priest, effectively catapulting Sherlock’s attention right back into her lap.

 _Gods, do I hate this woman!_ Thought John as his psychosomatic tremor started to shake the bowl he was carrying.

“You think I’m a vicar with a bleeding face?” asked Sherlock, fiddling with his top button. John’s paranoid, bordering on psychotic, mental state made him interpret this as a seductive move on Sherlock’s part.

“I think you’re damaged delusional and believe in a higher power. In this case, yourself, but someone loves you,” said Harry, smirking at John still standing motionless in the door way, “why if I had to punch that face I would avoid your teeth and lips too.”

That was the final straw; John’s mind tumbled from controlled trauma into blinding insane rage within a heartbeat. With more violence than he wanted, John flung the bowl of water onto the floor, and advanced on Harry with an overriding urge to throttle his sister. He wasn’t going to do it the military way, either, John was going to make it  _hurt._

Sherlock must have noticed his murderous expression because John was suddenly tackled from the side just inches from reaching Harry’s chair.

As he lay with his face pressed into Harry’s thick cream carpet, he distinctively heard her sadistic laughter ringing throughout the room. He was distinctly and rather unwillingly reminded of the time in infant school when his trousers fell down during assembly and Harry was the first person to stand up and laugh.

He wondered if Sherlock had been subjected to a similar experience by Mycroft. John certainly saw the reason of declaring Harry his arch-enemy.

 “What are you doing?” hissed Sherlock into his right ear as he pressed his body against John in an almost obscene manner.

“I’m doing a public service and throttling my sister!” screamed John but the full effect was muffled by the carpet. If he had been expecting Sherlock’s shocked silence or perhaps even utter disgust, John would have been very disappointed because the next words to fall from Sherlock’s lips were:

“But you said Harry was ugly!”  

 

  
  
**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love feedback of any type as long as its not abusive. Please do leave your thoughts, comments, feelings of rage etc. 
> 
> More chapters will be uploaded onto my LJ wellingtongoose.livejournal.com, so watch that space or this space.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review! I love to hear you thoughts, feelings, criticisms etc. I am also doing a "scenes you would like to see". Just drop a comment if you have an idea and I will try my best to incorporated it into the story.


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